A Letter on Letting Life Take Shape
My Dearest Friend,
We have a sign that travels from home to home with us that says, Home is where the Wi-Fi connects. It started as a joke, but after enough moves, I think there might be some truth to it.
We carry our mesh network with us when we move, tucked into our luggage rather than packed away with everything else. So when we moved into our new home, my husband plugged it in and suddenly our phones connected without asking. The Fire Sticks worked. The kids' devices recognized the network. After weeks of hotel passwords and questionable internet, our things seemed to know they were home before we did.
Other familiar things have started appearing, too. Our household goods haven't arrived, but our unaccompanied baggage has. Our own pillows and blankets are on the beds. They smell like our detergent again. Our daughter has her whole bin of Duplos instead of whatever toys fit into a suitcase. The bags we've been carrying from place to place are finally being emptied instead of repacked.
We aren't completely settled, but we are no longer constantly moving. For the first time in a while, the question isn't where we're going next. It is what our life here is going to look like.
Somewhere in the middle of unpacking, I found my planner.
I carried it through the entire move, but when I opened it, I realized I hadn't written a single thing in it for the entire month of July. This is a planner I normally fill months ahead of time. I pencil in dates before I know all the details because I like knowing what is coming.
And there sat July, completely blank.
It wasn't an empty month. We crossed an ocean. We lived in temporary spaces. We moved into our home and learned new roads and grocery stores and all the ordinary things that become complicated when nothing around you is familiar. We lived an enormous amount of life in July. It just wasn't the kind that fit neatly into little squares.
August is starting to look different. There are school dates now, meetings, appointments and plans. Soon there will be extracurricular activities and volunteer commitments and all the ordinary things that eventually turn days into a routine.
I have plans again. I just don't have a rhythm yet.
At our last duty station, I did. Our calendar was full, and I liked much of what filled it. I liked having things to do and places to be. But there weren't many afternoons that simply belonged to our family. Date nights required planning weeks ahead. Weekends could fill before they ever arrived.
It was a good life. I just don't know that I need to recreate it here simply because I knew how to live it.
We aren't the same family we were when we arrived there, either. Our children are older. My husband's job is different. Their activities will be different. My involvement will be different. This version of our family may need something entirely different from our days.
That leaves me in an uncomfortable middle. Too many blank days eventually make me restless, and I know myself well enough to admit that. I want community and involvement. I want things to look forward to. But I also want afternoons that belong to our family, time alone with my husband, and weekends with enough room left in them to experience this strange and wonderful opportunity of living in another country.
I don't know the balance yet.
For once, I am trying to let that be okay.
The Lesson
I have done this enough times to bring experience with me, but experience does not have to become a blueprint.
I know that I need structure, and I know that I can overfill my own calendar. I know what has worked for our family before and what hasn't. But knowing myself better does not mean I already know what our life here should look like.
The calendar will fill. School will start. Activities will begin. Invitations will come. Some routines will be chosen and others will quietly become routines before we realize it.
I don't need to decide all of them today.
Maybe part of settling is resisting the urge to unpack an old life and arrange it exactly as it was before. Some things can stay in the box while we figure out what belongs here now.
To the Spouse Finding Their Rhythm
If your days feel a little shapeless right now, you don't have to rush to give them structure simply because the emptiness feels unfamiliar.
You can miss the routines you left behind without immediately replacing them. You can bring the things you learned from your last home without assuming they belong exactly the same way in this one. Your family has changed. You have changed. This place will ask different things of all of you.
There will be time for the calendar to fill.
For now, give yourself enough room to notice what deserves a place on it.
Let your life take shape before deciding exactly what shape it should be.
